


Just Talk

by DatoPotato



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Batfamily (DCU)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:55:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23646538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DatoPotato/pseuds/DatoPotato
Summary: Short two-part fic about Damian accidentally killing a thug and Jon finding out.
Kudos: 31





	1. Part One

Damian huffed out a breath and dragged a hand through his hair in an attempt to quell his anger. When that didn’t work, he sent his fist into the nearest building, a sizeable crack forming and his hand beginning to pulse.

“Shit,” he crouched down next to the body, trying to determine the best course of action. He was so frustrated and angry with himself. How could he be so stupid?

He had tried so hard to not be what his Mother and Grandfather wanted him to be. He spent so long trying to undo all that they did to him. To be a better person. He tried so hard to be better for his Father, and Grayson, and the Titans and Jon...

He should’ve known.

Of course, this wasn’t exactly his fault either. It was also the fault of this unbalanced idiot of a thief. Though, who would believe him? He was the Demon’s Son, destined to rule over the world. He could picture them all now, his Father’s scowl as Damian tried his best not to avert his gaze, Grayson’s eyes full of pity for the boy. He couldn’t handle all that. He didn’t want to.

And then, there was always Jon...

“Oh! Hey, Dami! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Jon’s voice echoed slightly through the alley.

Damian whipped his body around to face Jon, his head spinning slightly. That didn’t make sense, he had been thoroughly trained so he wouldn’t be thrown off by such movements. Perhaps his head was spinning for a whole other reason.

Damian’s heart rate had picked up as he glanced nervously to the side. He couldn’t do this.

“What’s wrong?” Jon asked him, clearly concerned. He would obviously be able to hear his rising heart rate.

Damian stood his ground, weighing the options in front of him. Should he continue to stand his ground and attempt to explain what happened to Jon? Would he even understand? Perhaps he should just run away now. Though he had never been one to run, but it wouldn’t be long before Jon would realize.

“Damian, what’s that?” Jon asked hesitantly. Damian’s gaze found Jon’s as they held the other in place.

Still, Damian stayed silent, continuing to consider just up and leaving without saying a word.

“Damian,” Jon’s voice was hard and clear now, “he doesn’t have a heartbeat.”

He clenched his jaw tight. This is it.

“He’s dead,” Jon stated, “what did you do?”

Damian tried to focus on the throbbing in his hand, “I killed him,” he winced slightly as he said it. Damian refused to drop his gaze.

It was Jon’s turn to stay silent. His eyes seemed to be analyzing every bit of the scene before him. Damian stayed still, awaiting Jonathan’s conclusion. It was agonizing.

Through his time with his Father, Alfred and his brothers, he had no reason to hide anything. However, when he met this boy, only a few years younger than him, who was so pure and innocent, how could he not want to keep him that way? How could he subject his first and only friend to the horrors and atrocities he’s committed? He simply couldn’t.

Damian raised his arm, his grappling hook at the ready and was about to disappear into the night before Jon was in front of him in the blink of an eye, holding his arm.

“Wait,” he pleaded.

Damian stared hard at Jon, searching his face for any sign of hesitation, but he found none. He sighed and let his arm fall, securing the hook back on his hip.

Jon looked hard at the body, Damian could tell he was trying his hardest not to vomit and he was about to praise him for keeping it down when it all came up. Damian turned around to give the boy some privacy, unsure of what he was supposed to do at that point. When Jon’s heaving became shallow breaths and turned into steady breathing, Damian finally turned back to face him.

“What happened?” Jon finally asked.

Damian sighed, “I caught him red-handed stealing from a store about a block away. I chased him here and attempted to apprehend him. He attempted to fight back, lost his balance and broke his neck on the dumpster, ending his life.”

Jon looked slightly relieved, “So you didn’t kill him.”

Damian was taken aback. Sure, he hadn’t directly murdered him, but he still indirectly caused his death.

Jon looked worried at Damian’s lack of words, “Damian, are you ok?”

Again, Damian was appalled at the boy’s words.

“Am I ok?” Damian repeated, incredulously.

Jon’s eyebrows furrowed and Damian couldn’t help the dry laugh that escaped him.

“Kent, do you honestly believe this is a first for me?” Damian’s voice was dry. This wasn’t what he wanted to say. Not at all.

Jon’s face didn’t change much, still showing concern for his friend, “Damian, just—”

“You have no idea the things I’ve done. The blood I’ve spilled, the people I’ve hurt.”

Jon stayed quiet, simply watching Damian as he continued.

“You think one person is going to make a difference in the number of people I’ve already killed? You have no idea what I’ve done,” Damian’s voice was harsh as he spat the words. His breath was shallow and his hand itched to take his hook off his hip and disappear. Maybe it’d be for the best to never see him again. Jon would be better off.

“You’re right,” Jon said simply, surprising Damian. Jon met Damian’s eyes and he could see the determination in them, “you’re not ok, Damian, I can tell that much. But you’re right, I don’t know. I don’t know what you’ve done.”

Damian was silent again.

“So why don’t you tell me?”


	2. Part Two

Jon took a deep breath as he leaned against the building, finally a good distance away from the motionless man. Damian sighed, securing his cellphone back in his belt and massaging his temples as if in anticipation of his oncoming headache.

“So,” Jon started, “what’d your dad say?”

Damian turned towards the boy, trying to determine if he’d actually just asked him that, “Kent, why would I call my Father for this?”

Jon tilted his head, “Because this is clearly an adult job?”

Damian shook his head, “I cannot call my Father about this,” he said simply, hoping Jon would get the hint.

Of course, Jon wasn’t ever one to let things go, “Why not?”

“He would be deeply disappointed,” Damian breathed, leaning next to Jon.

Jon thought for a moment and then nodded his head.

“So, who did you call?” Jon finally asked after a long silence.

Damian glanced at his friend, “Someone who can help.”

It didn’t take long for the ‘help’ to arrive. It arrived on a motorcycle, clad in a brown leather jacket and a red helmet.

Damian pushed himself off the wall and nodded, “Hood,” he greeted.

Jason removed his helmet and ruffled his younger brother’s hair, much to the boy’s annoyance.

“C’mon Tater tot, you could act a little grateful,” Jason teased.

Damian threw his hand off his head, “I could handle it myself but—”

Damian stopped himself short. Jon was waiting and he deserved to know, especially after Damian’s little outburst. He hated it, but he’d have to thank his older brother sooner or later, he knew Todd would keep it under wraps. At least until Damian explained the situation to his Father and Grayson.

“Thank you,” he muttered, begrudgingly.

Jason held a cupped hand to his ear, a mischievous smirk playing at his lips, “What was that? I didn’t quite catch it.”

Damian gritted his teeth, “Thank you, Todd,” he managed to get out. Jason smirked at him and nodded as he shooed him and Jon away.

Once they were a safe distance away, perched on top of a building and looking out over the city, neither one breaking the silence.

“So,” Jon started again, “When did you first, uh, you know...”

“Take someone’s life?” Damian offered. Jon nodded stiffly and shifted his gaze back to the city.

Damian thought for a moment, which turned into minutes.

Jon became concerned, “Dami?”

Damian shook his head as if to rid his mind of its very thoughts, “I don’t know. I can’t remember when the first one was.”

Jon was silent, taking all that in. He wasn’t sure how he should respond.

Damian took a deep breath, “My Mother conceived me with a specific goal in mind,” he started, “Since the moment I was born, I was groomed to one day rule over this world.”

He looked over at Jon who was staring intently at him, “By your Grandfather? By Ra’s?” Jon said softly as if mentioning his name would summon the centuries-old man.

Damian nodded and fixed his gaze on the cityscape. He considered his words carefully, “Jonathan,” he breathed, suddenly felt anxiety overtaking him, something that was completely foreign to him.

Jon looked more than a little worried at his first name being used by the boy, but he waited for him to go on.

Damian fiddled with his cape, a habit he had picked up not long after he began living with his father, “You must understand, being raised there, the only things I knew were what I was taught. I had no knowledge of how things were done on the outside,” he paused for a moment, contemplating, “how things ought to be done.”

Jon lowered his gaze, “I know, Dami.”

Neither of them spoke, simply watching the people below them go about their mundane lives, blissfully unaware of the chaos creeping just around every corner.

Finally, Jon glanced back at Damian, “Damian?”

Damian hummed in response, not looking at him.

Jon hesitated, “What happened?”

At this, Damian met Jon’s gaze, “What happened? When?”

“Well,” Jon averted his eyes, “y’know, like while you were still with your mom...”

Damian’s brow twitched and his body stiffened.

“Sorry, maybe I shouldn’t...” Jon trailed off.

Damian waved his hand in dismissal, “It’s fine. Just don’t be a baby about it,” he paused as a smirk crept on to his lips, “And try to keep your insides intact.”

Jon scoffed at Damian’s poke at him, “You know it’s not normal to be totally fine around corpses, right?”

Damian nodded, “I’m aware.”

They took a few moments of calm, Damian gathering his thoughts.

“My Mother keeps back-up organs for me,” Damian paused, glancing at Jon sideways, “Just in case.”

Jon froze, “I’m sorry. She does what?”

Damian attempted to suppress the upwards pull of his lips, “She has clones of my organs as back-ups. In case I am in need of new ones.”

“Has she used them?”

“Yes. During my training, I was critically injured many times and would have no doubt perished, had it not been for them.”

Jon nodded, unsure of what to say.

“When I was four, I climbed the mountains of Interlaken.”

Jon angled his face to the dark sky, “Is that... impressive?”

Damian chuckled, “It’s supposed to be. I did it on my own. Broke my wrist on the way up, but I still made it.”

Jon hummed in response, not sure what to say again but letting Damian know he was listening.

“My Mother cloned me.”

That got Jon’s attention, “She cloned you? Like, not just your organs but, the whole you?” Damian nodded, “Why?”

Damian shrugged, “Because she is my Mother?”

Jon nodded, “Alright, valid point.”

“Then the clone me killed real me.”

Jon narrowed his eyes at Damian, “I find that hard to believe. You’re much too annoying to be a ghost,” he mused, poking Damian’s face while Damian swatted his hand away.

“Well, I did. Or he did,” Damian’s smile grew soft, “It’s thanks to my Father that I returned. Somewhat in one piece.”

“Damian.”

Jon let out a yelp as he whipped around to face the big bad Bat.

“Uh, hi Mr. Batman,” he said, nervously. Bruce nodded to Jon before turning his attention back to his son.

“Your footfalls are becoming heavier in your old age, Father,” Damian commented.

Bruce ignored his son's remark, “Let’s head back home.”

Damian sighed and heaved himself up from his perch, “He told you, huh. Perhaps I should remind Todd of his own ‘snitches get stitches’ rule?”

Bruce appeared to remain stoic if it wasn’t for the twitch in the corner of his mouth, “Come. Alfred has cocoa waiting.”

Damian followed obediently behind Bruce before turning back to Jon, “Thanks.”

Jon smiled widely at his friend, “Anytime, Dami. If you need to talk, just talk.”


End file.
